


Loving You (Had Consequences)

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: A Short Policeman AU [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Use, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by a Camila Cabello Song, Markus ruined him, Post-Break Up, Simon is fucked up, Song: Consequences, Songfic, Tissue Warning, You Have Been Warned, bad breakup, fuck Markus tbh, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Simon gave up a lot when he moved to Detroit, when he decided to get into a relationship with Markus.Simon's life is a fucking wreck now. All he can do is just drink to get through the night. and work to get through the day.





	Loving You (Had Consequences)

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyy I'm adding a new pairing to this AU. we're gonna be talking a bit about Simon and Kenny. awkward, right? but first, let's ruin Simon's life as much as humanly possible. which leads me to this here  
> ***TRIGGER WARNING: READER DISCRETION ADVISED*** Simon is not okay. He is abusing drugs and alcohol and is severely depressed and out of control. If you know anything about what that's like, first, I'm fucking sorry, I hope you get the peace that you need. Second, maybe skip this. if you skipped it and you want a summary, you can find me on discord with the username daisypwrites and let me know. 
> 
> This story has been rated M because of the issues Simon has here and because of the no-comfort aspect of this story. I promise happy days are coming for Simon, but it'll be a long road and it won't happen in this fic. that said, those of you that haven't been scared away at this point, enjoy the pain train.  
> ~daisy

He’s sitting in the dark in his apartment, his things scattered around him. They’re his things which he retrieved from Markus’s place.

Simon feels so stupid right now.

He put so many things at risk to stay here… stay with him. His parents found out about him before he could come out to them. They were furious, hurt and angry, although he figures they were mostly sad he wouldn’t have a natural heir to pass on their massive fortune to. Markus was fancy enough for their taste, though, they’d accepted him and his ‘cultured’ family fine enough. But they told Simon up front that he was never going to be able to take over the family business if he went away with Markus. He went anyway. He loved Markus.

Markus was too sad to love him. He should have known. There is always sadness in his eyes. Simon tried, he really did try… he tried so hard to take that sadness away. Now that he knows the reason, he feels like an idiot. Of course Markus’s sadness would never go away. He missed. Connor.

He can’t help the swell of pain in his chest, or the ugly sob that follows. He trusted Markus with his heart and his future but Markus’s heart and future belonged to someone else.

What does he have left now?

His phone rings, and he picks it up. “Not now,” he whispers.

“Si… hey, will you please open the door?”

Simon shakes his head. “No,” he whispers.

_Dirty tissues, trust issues_

He’s drinking again, at a party. Someone shoves a pill at him, and he puts it in his mouth and chases it with another shot. He doesn’t even know what it was, and he doesn’t care. It could be tylenol, Molly, or cyanide. None of them would make this better, anyway.

He dances with a guy, and another guy. It’s his first night back in Boston, and he’s decided, rather sardonically, to celebrate. And he will.

When the man grinding his dick against Simon’s ass whispers in his ear that they should get out of there, Simon doesn’t hesitate to follow. When he wakes up, he has finger-shaped marks on his wrists and hips and mouth-shaped marks on his neck and chest. His body is sore and his headache is blinding. Still, he puts on his clothes and slips out the door.

Another night in the club will make him forget he was ever hurting to begin with.

  
_Lonely pillows in a stranger's bed_  
 

“Si, we’ve been partying for weeks. Not that I’m complaining, but maybe we should dry out a while.” Jason is his best friend. Sexy, smart, organized, and hypercritical, Jason is the type of guy that doesn’t know he could be an inspiration and he doesn’t want to be. He is humble and too smart for someone like Simon, who tends to be extremely emotionally sensitive and lets that sensitivity make most of his decisions. He called it in the beginning. He’d said, “You’re gonna fuck off to Detroit again with this guy and he’s going to suck the fucking soul out of you. You’re too nice for him. Listen to you parents for once. Go to Harvard for your Masters, party with all the idiots there, fuck the hot ones. Get that ‘Markus’ guy out of your system before he wrecks you.”

“I honestly want to stay with him. He’s not going to hurt me.”

Jason had shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m here to drink you under the table when he’s done with you.”

“I don’t want to dry out,” Simon says. This time they’re having dinner and drinks in a bar. No clubbing, no pills. Lots of shots, though.

Jason’s eyes are blue, the icy kind of blue that looks sharp when he’s deciding what he thinks about something, and deep and moving like the ocean when he is being sincere. He says, “I’m sorry, Si.”

Simon takes another shot. “Not, ‘I told you so’?”

Jason shakes his head. “You already know that I did. Why rub it in?”

“Because you’re always right.” Simon raises his sixth shot glass. “That’s why I’m hiring you to run my life.”

“W-what?” Jason asks, confused.

Simon downs the shot. “I’m hiring you. I need a personal assistant for this job, it sucks trying to organize everything on my own. Nobody they’ve interviewed fits. I want you to do it.”

“So you’re hiring me?”

Simon hiccups. “Yup. You’re going to be my personal assistant and you’re going to run my life. They’re going to pay you to help me organize meetings and shit, and I’m going to pay you to organize everything else. It’s going to be great.”

“How much are we talking?”

“Enough per year to move out of that shithole I left you in when I moved to Detroit, obviously. And then some.”

“W-what? You call that a shithole?”

“Yeah I call it a shithole, it’s a shithole. I’m getting you into a luxury apartment downtown near the office.”

“It might be better for me to find one near your place,” Jason muses. “So I can wake your dumb ass up on time when you’re hungover.”

“See? This is why I need you. You’re hired.”

Jason doesn’t seem excited though, he seems sad.

“Si, when are you going to tell me what happened out there?”

“Fucking never. I’m forgetting he exists just like you told me to. I hate him. He never loved me.”

“Simon…”

“Shut up. You haven’t even worked yet and you’re already pushing getting fired.”

Jason just laughs. “You would never fire me.”

Simon shrugs. He steered the topic away from Markus, and that’s all that matters.

  
_Secret keeping, stop the bleeding_

It’s strange to see himself in the mirror these days. His job requires all of his focus. He works as a junior executive in a marketing company here in Boston now, his last name and some good references getting him in the door.

Jason is smooth and efficient. He feels like he’s constantly stumbling. Empty and gutted, like his brain got sucked out of his ear and put in a blender before it was given back to him. Still he forces himself to do his best; this is the only way he’ll prove to his parents that he can manage his inheritance, after all.

He works and he drinks. Sometimes he parties, popping Molly or sometimes cocaine. He doesn’t care. He likes how numb and free the highs make him. He likes less how much the make him puke when he comes down, but that can’t be helped.

He works. He parties. He fucks strangers. He drinks. It doesn’t leave time for much other things, like sleeping, eating, or hanging out with Jason outside of clubs or parties. It doesn’t leave time for anything to remind him how empty and painful he feels, and he likes that just fine. Weeks turn into months that way, thrown in the same blender his brain was tossed in. Simon doesn’t care.

  
_Lost a little weight because I wasn't eating_  
  


All he cares about now is getting through the day.

It’s funny, when he decided to go to Detroit, he had told his parents he had a feeling his life was going to change drastically. He’d been right. Going to classes where nobody knew his name or cared about the black credit cards in his wallet, meeting people and making friends based on common interests and ideas…

Meeting Markus in that social sciences class and thinking, he could just love me for me. It took four months of them hanging out, doing their research together, buying each other coffee before Markus confessed that he had feelings for Simon. It was another before he got up enough courage to do something about it.

God, he remembers that night like it was yesterday, even though the rest of his memory lives in a constant wash of liquor these days. Markus went to his dorm, kissed him as soon as he opened the door. Told him everything. “It’s not fair to him. I don’t love you both, and I don’t love him more. If you love two people at once, you never loved the first one to begin with.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Connor. He moved out today.”

Simon’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to ask any number of questions, but Markus chased those away with his own lips. After that, it was easy, like breathing, like walking, like blinking. Time went by in a bubble of freedom and many, many indiscretions they shared. Markus was a gentleman, kind and intense like his mismatching eyes. They were good together, they fit. Simon responded to him like a cello string to a bow.

Eventually they got their shit together. Settled down, started going to operas instead of club parties, and socialite events instead of campus protests. The things Simon hated about home he loved when he was with Markus.

At some point, Markus became home for him. He doesn’t know how or when that happened, but being homeless sucks.

He drinks.

_Loving you was young, and wild, and free_  
_Loving you was cool, and hot, and sweet_  
_Loving you was sunshine, safe and sound_  
_A steady place to let down my defenses_  
_But loving you had consequences_

Simon is still drunk when he opens the door. Thanks to the lack of fun things like Molly, ex, or coke, his mind is sloshing around dumbly as he fiddles with the locks, but still not gone enough to realize that he doesn’t want to see the person on the other side of the door.

Said person looks completely crestfallen, eyes wide as they take him in from mussed blonde hair to dirty socks with holes in the toes. “S-Simon…”

“Mm-hi,” he slurs. “What are you doing here?”

Markus swallows. “I… I just want to see… wanted to see you. They told me you moved here again.”

“S-so you followed me to Boston?”

Markus nods, lowering his head. They’re quiet for a while.

_Hesitation, awkward conversation_  
_Running on low expectation_  
  


“So, what are you doing here?” Simon asks again. He forgot he asked already, and the floor is starting to act more like a tilt-a-whirl than it has any right to. He wants to lay down, or puke. Or both, if he’s honest.

Markus winces. “I… want to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Pssh. You’re not sorry. You got your boytoy back. W’ts that gotta do with me?”

Markus shakes his head. “I… I keep hurting you both, I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Mmkay. You should start by getting over yourself.”

Markus winces again, but he accepts the zing. He probably knows he deserves it. “Simon, I… you’re drunk. Can I help you lay down?”

“I’m not letting you anywhere near my bed literally ever. Fuck you.”

“The couch, then? Please lay down, you look like you’re going to pass out. Actually…” Markus’s eyes take him in again, their mismatched colors seeming to dull into the same, colorless sadness. “You seem in bad shape.”

“I am,” Simon says, false cheerfulness in his voice. “I’m fucked up. I hate my job but I do it anyway because it’s the only way I’ll convince my parents that I haven’t thrown my entire life away, wasted myself on you.” He lets Markus guide him to the couch, still talking. “You know, they warned me about you, and so did Jason. But they’re too late. I did waste myself on you. Now I’m just… just a waste.”

Markus’s eyes are shiny with tears. “You don’t know how wrong you are,” he whispers.

_Every siren that I was ignoring_  
_I'm paying for it_

“You should go,” Simon whispers. “And you shouldn’t come back.”

 

_Loving you was dumb, dark, and cheap_  
_Loving you will still take shots at_ me  
  


Markus doesn’t leave. He falls into slumber with Markus’s fingers still in his hair and his words echoing in his ears, “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

_Found loving you was sunshine_  
_but then it poured_  
_And I lost so much more than my senses_  
  


Markus is gone in the morning. Simon doesn’t cry, not until he sees the shiny circle on the floor, dropped and forgotten, a neat row of tiny, sparkling diamonds right on the top.

He picks it up, holds it in his palm. And instead of reaching for aspirin and water, he reaches for the vodka in the top of his cabinet. He stares at it for a long time while he drinks. Then he puts the ring in the trash.

He takes his keys, his jacket, and his tie that he discarded last night. And he goes back to work.

_'Cause loving you had consequences_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oof.
> 
> thanks for making it through that. I have tissues. Check out the rest of the AU that inspired all this right [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1134530) if you want some lightness and fluff after all that heavy shit.
> 
> I love you dearly,  
> <3Daisy


End file.
